


Irish Linen

by DelusionsbyBonnie



Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelusionsbyBonnie/pseuds/DelusionsbyBonnie
Summary: Dr Jhandir may not celebrate Christmas, but Andrew is determined to give his friend something to be happy about.





	Irish Linen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sakuuya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuuya/gifts).



“Doc. Doc! Open the damn door!” 

Dr Jhandir, grumbling under his breath, slid back the last bolt and wrenched the door open. “What?” he snapped, glaring up at Andrew.

“Just because it’s snowing, you don’t think you’re saving your whiskey, do you?” Andrew grinned, shaking a dusting of snow onto the floor of Dr Jhandir’s front hall. “Happy Christmas, Doc!”

The doctor sniffed. “You are late. I was beginning to wonder.”

“Nah, wouldn’t miss it. Just had to go to Advent mass first, that’s all.” Andrew hung his coat and hat on his regular hook. “But now I’m freezing. Come on, I know you’ve got a fire in the parlor.”

Dr Jhandir led the way up the stairs to the parlor, wincing slightly as Andrew collapsed heavily onto a settee. “Considering the occasion, I decided to open two new bottles. Yours is a twelve-year Scotch, meant for sipping,” he said pointedly, handing his friend a glass. “Mine is a fine Belgian vermouth which I am looking forward to trying.”

Andrew waited politely until the doctor had poured his own drink before raising his whisky in a toast. “ _Slainte_ , Doc! Damn, that’s good! Got one hell of a punch to it!”

The doctor smiled politely, raising his own glass. “I thought you might enjoy it.”

Andrew took another drink before setting the glass down on a side table. “Funny you should mention an occasion… I, ah, didn’t think you celebrated Christmas.” He reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out a small, paper-wrapped parcel.

“Well, no, not really, but--”

Andrew cut off the doctor’s explanation by presenting the package with a flourish. “Happy birthday, Doc. Many happy returns.” He grinned proudly, clearly waiting for his friend to open the gift.

“Oh, thank you, Andrew.” The doctor was genuinely surprised. He… had he mentioned his birth date to Andrew? He might have, once, but he hadn’t expected the man to remember, much less get him a present. He carefully untied the twine holding the package together, then unfolded the paper. Inside was a small white square emblazoned with a crimson initial J.

“Irish linen!” Andrew declared, beaming. “Got my cousin Bridget to put your initial on it. I know it’s not much, but… it seemed like something you’d like.” He waited anxiously for the doctor’s reaction.

Dr Jhandir stared at the handkerchief for a moment, at a loss for words. “Thank you, Andrew,” he managed finally. “I… am touched.” He smiled, tucking the linen square into his pocket.

“So you do like it?” Andrew’s ebullience returned.

“Yes. Thank you.” The doctor took another drink, changing the subject quickly. “Is this the same cousin Bridget that married the blacksmith?”

“Oh, no, that was Bridget O’Grady on me da’s side. This is Bridget Flannigan on Ma’s side. She’s the best embroiderer I know. It’s my Auntie Bridget O’Rourke, Da’s brother Sean’s wife, who’s the lacemaker.”

“I see.” Dr Jhandir took another drink. Perhaps Andrew’s extended family was not the best subject of conversation after all. It had, however, distracted him from any further sentimentality, a thing for which the doctor was grateful. Even so, as Andrew continued expounding on his astounding number of family members named Bridget, his hand crept back to the handkerchief in his pocket.


End file.
